


Know what you ask of me

by Bonymaloney (orphan_account)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Play, Angst, Canon character deaths, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Romance, So much angst though, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-06 14:15:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12212943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Bonymaloney
Summary: The emotions surrounding cryosleep.





	Know what you ask of me

It's time now, time to stand his watch. He'd argued and pleaded against it, but in the end Alfor had commanded him, and Coran is loyal to his King. He's in the pod, he can taste the freezing gas, and all of a sudden the worry hits him - does Alfor know? Does he really know? Coran, you great fool, it would have been a matter of a single tick to tell him. Three little words, just to tell him one last time, but now his lips are numb, he can't move, can't even see well enough to know if Alfor's still watching him, and does he know, does he -

He'd been a young idiot with everything to prove when he first went to boot camp, vain of his moustache and the way the uniform made his arms look, wanting to be the best at everything. He turned out to be a decent pilot, more enthusiastic than dangerous when it came to combat, but with his grandfather's talent for mechanical engineering. His superior officers noticed that he could read people, had the gift of a kind word or a teasing reprimand and the ability to know who needed which; and so eventually he became an instructor. He enthusiastically made recordings of his lessons, with special effects and cameo appearances, so that multiple classes of cadets could benefit from his wisdom at once. Coran's grandfather might have had something to do with it, but one of the recordings came to the attention of the King. 

The freshly crowned King Alfor was inventing a new form of combat technology, one which would place unique demands on its pilots. To develop a training programme, he sent for Coran. When Coran first saw him, he was forced to revise his estimation of himself downwards, to only the second most beautiful man on Altea. The King was tall and lean, his white braids both devil-may-care and stylish in a way that left Coran quite smitten. 

Alfor was impressed by his insights, and gave him a place in his household guard. He came to Coran more and more often, speaking with him about maintenance, and logistics, where he'd grown up and how did he personally best like to train? Coran saw him nearly every day, and it was fine, and it was fine, and then there was the time he was helping the King into his armour, kneeling before him as he made sure it was clean and well-maintained and every last join was sealed tight. He wasn’t sure if he was naked or not. 

They seemed to be on a platform, in the middle of some vast nothingness, with spotlights trained on them making the armour glow where Coran had polished it; and yet it was oddly intimate. The King seemed to tower over him, and there was a sudden great tension within Coran, and he almost felt afraid to look up, but then he felt Alfor's hand in his hair, stroking gently. 

"That's good," the King murmured, and then Coran woke up, biting down furiously on his knuckles to avoid waking the rest of the barracks as he came harder than he thought he ever had in his life into his other hand.

It was awkward, but Coran was able to hide behind the trappings of his office. His face was the blankest, his salute was the smartest, the creases on his uniform could cut you. When the King was in the room, the tension left him breathless. Until he was off duty, when he would fidget and tell stupid jokes and run around until it was time for the start of another sleepless night. 

Then came the day that Alfor was to be married. Coran, who was Sir Coran by now, was chosen to lead the honour guard that would escort the new bride to the palace. It wasn't jealousy he was feeling, he told himself. It was just that the King deserved the best, and he was entirely ready to dislike her on principal if she didn't live up to that. 

Then he saw her, and once again his ranking system was thrown into complete disarray. 

Aurora was beautiful, with large eyes and quinessence marks that stood out vividly against her dark skin, and she was clever. A kind friend, and a shrewd diplomat; she followed protocol and decorum just as well as Coran did, but with a kind of quiet amusement that was so subtle he could never tell if he was being teased or not. She loved to gossip almost as much as he did. 

One day he brought her tea by the window, and she invited him to join her for a cup. He looked at her and felt a sudden flip in his belly, burning heat in his marks. 

Falling in love with one member of the Royal family could be considered an accident, but both was downright foolish, he scolded himself. And his duties made spending time with them unavoidable. He strove to be knowledgable, and entertaining, and useful. A colleague, and a friend, and nothing more.

One night Alfor threw a great ball to celebrate the end of rock fall season. Coran danced with Aurora, and with Alfor, handsome in his dress uniform. He decided to take one final tour around the castle to check security, before too much nunvil went to his head. On his way back to the ballroom, as he was passing the stairway that lead up to the Royal quarters, Aurora called for him. 

The King and Queen both looked so serious that for a moment he was convinced it was war. Alfor looked at Aurora, and she nodded slightly. They kissed, seemingly ignoring him, and Coran was nonplussed. Some nobles treated servants and guardsmen like part of the furniture, but never them, never before. 

Alfor cleared his threat and spoke, oddly formal. 

"Coran, what I'm asking you now is not as a commander, or a king. No matter your answer, it won't change anything going forward. Having said that, I've been feeling - we've been feeling - and we were hoping..."

Aurora smiled, and nuzzled at her husband's neck, before extending her hand to Coran. She drew him close and kissed him. 

Then Alfor kissed him, and then he was between them in a hesitant embrace. Ears buzzing, heart pounding, he swallowed once and again.

Alfor laughed. 

"I never thought I'd see you silenced, my friend!"

He clapped Coran on the shoulder, but let his hand linger and squeeze. Slipping round to the back of his neck, he drew Coran into a deeper kiss. Aurora guided his hand gently to her breast, before she began to push his jacket from his shoulders. 

"Is this alright?" she murmured. Coran thought that his dress pants left nothing to the imagination when it came to how he felt about the situation. She undressed him slowly as Alfor kissed him again, deep and hungry. Aurora brushed her hand gently through the tight whirls of hair on his chest and belly. 

"Red all the way down. Alfor, you owe me ten groggeries."

Alfor laughed again, a deep rumble that Coran felt all through his chest. He was naked with his friends, his loves, his King and Queen, and he staggered with the surprise of it all as they stumbled to the bed. 

A big luxurious four poster, and there was plenty of room for Coran beside them as Alfor and Aurora made love. His head was spinning, his body aching, moved by the love between them, grinning like an idiot with delight at the fact that he was allowed to touch and kiss such beautiful people. Alfor finished with a groan, and Coran smoothed the hair from his face before kissing him and then Aurora, on her hair, her lips, her throat and lower, her breasts, her belly, and then he was lapping and suckling between her legs, powerfully aroused by the taste of her and Alfor together. 

"Quiznak, that moustache-!" She clutched tight at his hair as she came. 

He ended up on his knees with his hand fisted in the sheets and his head in Aurora's lap, gasping for breath as Alfor brought him off with his fingers inside him. 

"By the ancients... by the stars...oh help! Don't stop..."

"I told you he'd be noisy," Alfor rumbled. "Ten groggeries to me this time, I think."

Coran was embarrassed, but he couldn't stop himself. The burning stretch, the fullness, the friction... it was almost too much, and nowhere near enough. Words were beyond him, and he moaned and yelped and sobbed as Aurora stroked his hair. He came apart with Alfor murmuring in his ear about how good he was, how tight he felt, how next time he would take everything Alfor had to give him.

Alfor had to be the baby's biological father. Altea needed an heir, and if the royal baby was born with hair the colour of an Enabran fireberry then certain unavoidable questions would be asked. But she was Coran's too, in every way that mattered. He stood guard outside the delivery chamber when she was born, ramrod straight with his ceremonial spear, so full of pride and love he thought he might burst. When Aurora held her daughter out to him and little Allura reached out and grabbed his moustache, Coran was hers, and would be for the rest of his life.

The war seemed far away at first; a place Alfor would go off to to fight with his paladins. Coran would fasten his cape to his shoulders, Aurora would place his helmet on his head, and then they would retire to the Royal quarters and cuddle together, drinking tea and watching Allura play while they waited for Voltron's safe return. Coran kept her spirits up when she got old enough to worry, with jokes and stories and the invention of a singing cloak. When Alfor would return and his family curled around him, Coran sometimes felt he could weep with joy. 

Then there was the great betrayal, and the war came very close. It hurt Coran to see how the fighting changed Alfor. They lost Aurora, and the pain of her loss was a crushing and tearing like he'd never known. He turned to Alfor, but Coran had always been the one to support them and hold them together, and the pain of not being able to this time broke his heart. Alfor withdrew into himself, and bade Coran to never leave Allura's side. 

Coran was loyal to his King. 

-know, does he know, does he...

It's cold, and then he's awake. Six figures surrounding him, and the recognition that one of them is Allura makes him weak at the knees with relief. They are young idiots with everything to prove, and Coran knows what to do here, so he playfights and bickers with the one who uses aggression to mask how scared he is. Lets the memories of the past several hundred years wash through him. He has a princess to protect, a castle to maintain, and five new Paladins to train. 

He will make his family proud.

**Author's Note:**

> I just... I have a thing for Rhys Derby, ok? Murray, present.


End file.
